


Myself, I Do Not Count    &    Unspoken, Spoken

by patternofdefiance



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, POV First Person, Poetry, Post-Series, Remix, Season 3, Sexual Themes, Villanelle, Wits on Tap 2015, poem, some sort of wounded tercet poem thing as well, witsontap2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patternofdefiance/pseuds/patternofdefiance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A remix of Love and Hair Dye by WhimsicalEthnographies in two parts: villanelle followed by loosely structured tercets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Myself, I Do Not Count

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhimsicalEthnographies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalEthnographies/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Love and Hair Dye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2741573) by [WhimsicalEthnographies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalEthnographies/pseuds/WhimsicalEthnographies). 



> This remix has been a delight - and so inspiring. WhimsicalEthnographies' story is absolutely lovely, and I urge you to go and read that right now before you do anything else....
> 
> Done?  
> Good! (SO good, amiright??)
> 
> The following poems are the first poetry I have written in years, just about, and in my usual indecisive way, I couldn't decide whether I wanted to try my hand at a strict form or something looser - so I did both!  
> The first is John's villanelle, and the second is what I have taken to calling Sherlock's wounded tercets. If anyone happens to recognise the last poem as an official, existing poetic structure, please let me know - otherwise I will continue calling them wounded tercets all my days :D

Myself, I Do Not Count

 

 

Although myself I do not count as vain,

Of our great differences I am aware,

And what if my Love were to think the same?

 

I will admit, the thought has caused much pain,

Physical comparison bringing on despair –

Although myself I do not count as vain.

 

His beauty is such to strike one lame;

My own visage is one much less rare,

And what if my Love were to think the same?

 

Devotion runs deeper than hide and mane

I tell myself when by his touch laid bare –

Although myself I do not count as vain.

 

Always, the world watches due to lust and fame,

Confusing finds disparities in our pair.

And what if my Love were to think the same?

 

This shaded doubt colours me in shame,

As I wonder how one so plain does dare –

And while myself I do not count as vain,

Still, what if my Love were to feel the same?


	2. Unspoken, Spoken

Unspoken, Spoken

 

 

‘You noticed,’ you say,

And in your unassuming way encompass me with words

As I do you with arms and skin.

 

‘Of course,’ I agree, you’re right;

It was notice at first sight in that room and on that day

When you paused, just stepped in.

 

‘My god,’ I did not gasp,

Not when brushing fingers at first grasp as phone and heart

Were freely offered, given.

 

‘Stay with me,’ I did not beg,

When I spoke down to you from that ledge, decision made,

Our close bond to be riven.

 

‘For you,’ I failed to explain,

My face and voice a wound again, your hurts stacked deep,

Your faith worn perilously thin.

 

‘Please,’ I later asked,

And our distance was revealed a mask to be discarded,

Rejected and revolting as a sin.

 

‘Yes,’ I answered and then cried,

And then much later sighed as tessellation settled into sleep

And silence replaced din.

 

‘Did you mean it?’ you ask now,

And of course I did, and how – and far more, for I have meant all

the things left unspoken.

 

‘You need not change,’ I should have stated,

But now we both are sated and words come freely, I will say that and more,

Speak of beauty and perfection…

 

‘Just stay,’ I at long last end,

In my arms a lover and a friend, the bravest, kindest, wisest I have known,

And sole recipient of my affection.

 

‘Always,’ you summate once more,

My fixed point as before in a world of change – and I, yours it seems,

Unwavering reciprocation.

**Author's Note:**

> And finally, a BIG heap of thanks for redscudery for organising this whole shindig - it was amazing, you are amazing, THANK YOU SO MUCH <3


End file.
